"What's Senior doing at this hour?"
Fang Qingzhi propped her chin, staring blankly at the ceiling.
She could sense Chen Ping'an's preoccupied state—too busy to spare her a thought.
A great figure like Senior must be battling for all cultivators of Cangyun Realm... slaying demonic overlords or such.
Her mind conjured images of a white-haired immortal soaring on a sword, demonic blood raining in his wake. The fantasy coaxed a girlish grin onto her face.
If only...
...he'd take me as his disciple.
"No! Fang Qingzhi, keep your delusions in check!"
She smacked her own forehead in reprimand.
Earlier, Senior had gifted her twelve spirit crystals to maintain the Advanced Spirit Gathering Array for six hours—brutally forcing her cultivation to Qi Refining Stage 5.
Her meridians had partially healed, slowing the spiritual energy leakage from her dantian.
Yet the core issue remained: her dantian resembled a cracked jar, forever spilling precious energy.
There must be a way to repair my dantian and spiritual roots.
Though Senior's powers were boundless, she refused to burden him further.
If he chooses to help, that's his grace. I won't beg.
Her plan solidified:
Abandon Green Cloud Sect.Join a minor sect—their ancient archives might hold recovery methods.If all fails, retreat to mortal lands. Become a hermit... or perhaps a general in Southern Dynasty?
Revenge against her senior brothers?
Fang Qingzhi dismissed the thought.
I couldn't defeat them at my peak. Now? Impossible.
Cowardice? Perhaps. But survival dictated pragmatism.
Before meeting Senior, she hadn't cared to live. Now?
She'd cling to life until the day Senior finished his cosmic struggles and... maybe acknowledged her existence.
Just one word. A single "well done."
That's enough.
Elsewhere...
"Something's wrong!" Song Jiaojiao glared at the stone cottage nestled against the mountainside. "Wasn't Fang Qingzhi supposed to rot in a shack?"
Her cultivator's vision detected recent renovations. Someone's aiding her.
Red Sky Peak's direct disciples?
Mu Baishang claimed they despised Fang Qingzhi... but old bonds sometimes lingered.
Killing Fang Qingzhi now risked offending powerful backers. Yet the Foundation Establishment Pill tempted too fiercely.
After agonizing deliberation, Song Jiaojiao retrieved a foot-long crimson incense from her spatial ring—Frenzybeast Lure.
Normally used to bait demons during hunts, its undetectable scent drove beasts mad with hunger.
Her original plan—stab Fang Qingzhi and feed the corpse to beasts—required revision. Now? Let the wilderness execute her.
"Fang Qingzhi... blame your crumbling alliances."
She lit the incense and flicked it onto a nearby tree. A concealment array shielded her presence.
Let the beasts handle the rest.
Unaware, Fang Qingzhi slept soundly as demonic growls began echoing through predawn mist.
Mount Tai Summit Trail - 5:00 AM
Chen Ping'an's condition deteriorated.
While other tourists shivered in summit winds, he burned with feverish sweat. Each step left damp footprints on stone stairs.
Two bread rolls and bottled water sustained his skeletal frame. Yet his spine stayed straight—a pilgrim facing sacred ground.
"Dude, let me carry you!" Zhang Rui pleaded, voice breaking. Witnessing an osteosarcoma patient climb through bone-deforming agony would haunt him forever.
Behind them trailed dozens—retreating tourists inspired by Chen's resolve, now forming a serpentine procession.
Chen smiled weakly at the remaining 98 steps.
An hour earlier, a Level 57 whale had pledged 66 War Drums of Dragon City (valued at ¥2888 each) if he summited by sunrise. Total earnings could hit ¥120,000.
Not that I care about money.
He climbed to test his limits—to feel alive while death gnawed his marrow.
Then—
CRACK.
Chen collapsed mid-step.
Su Xiaoxi screamed behind him: "His leg! Look at his leg!"
His right limb twisted grotesquely—ankle to knee resembling crushed origami.